All This And Heaven Too
by LetMeWalkTheEarthWithYou
Summary: 7x01 AU Aftermath/ - There really is a thin line between love and hate. A thin line between right and wrong. And sometimes the only way to set something right is to break the rules. - / Emily P. & Ian D. (slightly Emily P. & Spencer R.)


**Disclamer: I own nothing, everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

**AN: 7x01 AU Aftermath/ Once again, no one's dying.**

* * *

**All This And Heaven Too**

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**.**

Before Emily knows what's happening Ian has Reid knocked out on the ground and her in a death grip against his chest. The handcuffs around his wrists are gone, her own gun is pressed against her temple.

The look he shares with Chloe enough for Emily to understand, that Ian has planned this all along.

_She should have known._

"Stay down and I may even let her live," he tells her team, while he drags her with him. One step at a time, never losing his grip on her.

Time seems to stand still, guns pointed in all directions. Yet no one is moving. And Emily wonders how many of those people surrounding them, really are FBI agents and how many of them are Ian's own men.

They walked right into a trap.

_She walked them right into a trap._

She thinks about her options, thinks about what she could do and what she should do but she can't come up with anything useful. If only one of those people around her belongs to Ian, there's a good chance more than one of her own ends up dead.

And after all, Chloe is still pointing a gun at Declan's head.

_It's too much of a risk._

Ian keeps dragging her forward and Emily doesn't need to take a look at his face to know how much he enjoys it.

She has to admit he tricked her good. _She came running straight back into his arms._

He pushes her past her team and Emily tries hard to fight the tears. Knows she won't get the chance to see them again. Wishes she had the time to say goodbye, wishes they didn't have to lose her all over again. But it's too late to turn back time.

He shoves her up the stairs, past Chloe and Declan. Motions for the nearest seat inside the jet.

"Sit," he tells her. His voice harsh and cold, the barrel of her own glock still pressed at her temple. And Emily wonders if he would really pull the trigger. If he would really shoot her in front of his son.

She watches Ian pull out the handcuffs from her jacket. Watches him lock them around her left wrist and against the seat.

"You're never going to get out of here," she tells him. Hoping she's right, knowing she isn't.

"Sure I will, love." Ian tells her. A stoic expression on his face. "You know I will."

And she thinks that -yes- she does, when he starts to pull up the sleeves of her jacket with his free hand.

"What are you doing?" she asks him, trying to fight the jolting sensation his touch sends through her body, when she spots the syringe in his hand.

"No, Ian," she starts. Pleading. "Ian please, you don't have to..." but before she's able to finish her sentence, there's a sharp pain and her sight gets blurry. Her eyes threaten to fall shut.

"Sleep, love," she hears him whisper. "Just sleep."

"Don't hurt them," she begs. Her words slurred. "Please, Ian, please don't hurt them..." She tries to fight the dark, afraid she might not be able to open her eyes again. But it's no use.

They fall shut on her own accord and Emily thinks she hears someone yell her name. Followed by gunshots tearing the night apart and then, nothing anymore.

.

When Emily wakes, she finds herself in a king sized bed. White cushions and soft sheets all around her. For a moment she lies there. Stares at the ceiling. Wonders why she's still alive.

When she pushes away the sheets, she finds her own clothes gone. Realizes she's only wearing a white silk nightgown, her dark hair falling down her shoulders. The faint smell of lavender and soap still lingers in the air. She isn't sure if she really wants to find out how that happend.

Barefoot, she makes her way out of the bed and through the room. Wondering where she is, why she's all by herself.

Curious, she walks toward an open door, watches white curtains dance in a soft breeze.

When she steps out of the room, she's blinded by sunlight and she has to blink several times until her sight gets clear again. When it does, she finds herself standing on a stone balcony. The ocean right in front of her.

She blinks, unsure if it's really there or if it's just her imagination. Grabs the railing with trembling fingers, listens to the soft thunder of waves against the shore.

_He took me back to the ocean._

And she remembers a different day, years ago. The two of them watching the ocean, Declan running around on the Tuscan beach. A bucket and a spade in his hands. Laughing. Smiling.

And she remembers the sun on her face, the salt on Ian's lips when he kissed her. The colorful sunset, when he told her he loved her.

_This doesn't make sense._

A soft chuckle from somewhere right behind her makes Emily spin around. She finds Ian leaning against the wall beside the door, dressed in black slacks and a white button down. Freshly shaved. A smirk on his face.

His blue eyes glisten in the sun.

"It's beautiful isn't it?"

"Where are we?" she asks. Tries to keep her voice steady. Wonders why he brought her here. Wonders why she isn't tied to a chair being tortured to death.

"You always loved the ocean," he tells her as he walks up to the railing beside her. His eyes fixed on something at the horizon.

"Why am I here, Ian? Wasn't there a dark warehouse available?"

He laughs. "You really thought I would kill you, didn't you?" He meets her gaze. "If I'd wanted to do that, don't you think I would have done it by it now?"

It's something about the way he's looking at her. Something about the way he openly meets her gaze that makes her take a step back.

"What are you trying to say?"

"That I'm not going to kill you, love."

.

"Where's Declan," Emily asks. Her eyes dart through the sunlit kitchen Ian just led her to.

"Upstairs. In his room. Still asleep. Now, take a seat and eat something."

He motions at the breakfast table at the other side of the room. The delicious smell of fresh coffee hangs in the air.

"I'm not hungry."

"You haven't had a decent meal in days. Sit down and eat."

Emily looks up at him. Alarmed.

"How long have I been here?"

He looks away and out of the window into the trees surounding the house.

"Ian, how long?"

"It's been days since we left DC."

Emily feels the color drain from her face. That isn't possible.

"But how..." she starts and grabs the edge of the kitchen counter to hold herself upright. Suddenly afraid her legs won't be able to support her weight any longer.

"I had you sedated." He tells her. Still avoiding her eyes. "There's no need to worry, though. There was a doctor. It was all under control."

"Under control?" Emily can't believe he's being serious. "You kidnapped me, sedated me for days and then you come and tell me it was all under control and that there's no need to worry?"

His spins around angrily, his eyes lit up with anger. "Take a look around, Emily. Does this look like a torture chamber to you?"

Of course it doesn't. The question alone is ridiculous. She's not in some torture chamber but in one of his villas instead.

"Then why sedate me?"

"I had things to take care of."

_Right. Sure._

Emily feels like screaming.

"Did you sedate Declan as well?" she asks him. Eying him carefully. "Where is he?"

"I already told you. In his room. And no I didn't."

He meets her gaze so openly, she knows he's telling her the truth.

"He remembers, you know." He admits all of a sudden. "Not me, but us. Together. As a family. He remembers certain events even more clearly than I do. The sun on his skin, running around on the beach. You building sandcastles with him. But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Emily looks away. Of course she did. Louise told her. Asked her what she should tell Declan.

She never found a answer to that.

"Does Declan know that Louise is dead?" If Emily hadn't known any better she would have said Ian looked sad.

"Yes."

"Did you tell him that you're the reason she is dead?"

The words leave her mouth before she can stop herself. Ian's right in front of her before she has the time to blink. His hands around her wrists while he grabs her and pushes her back against the kitchen counter. His weight makes it impossible to breathe.

"Don't you dare say that ever again," he yells at her. His voice full of rage.

"Why?" she challenges him. "Can't you take the cruel reality?"

He grabs her tighter and Emily thinks that if he grabs her just a little harsher, he'll break her wrists. And she knows she should be scared, but she can't bring herself to care if he kills her after all.

"Chloe killed Louise, I never even touched her," he almost spits right into her face. "You know I wasn't even there."

Emily laughs. And she laughs even more when she watches the anger raging in his eyes. Winces and screams in pain, when he shoves her backwards so hard she sees stars.

"That doesn't mean you're not responsible for it," she tells him. Her eyes closed trying to stop the world from spinning.

"Chloe was supposed to bring her back to the jet as well as Declan," Ian whispers against her ear, his lips so close against her skin she feels herself tremble at the sudden sensation.

"Killing Louise hadn't been part of the plan."

Emily blinks and Ian gives her a cold, hard laugh.

"You didn't see that one coming, did you?"

"Where's Chloe," Emily asks, even though she's sure she already knows the answer. If killing Louise hadn't been part of Ian's plan, there was only one possible solution for the woman who betrayed him. "You killed her, didn't you?"

"She got what she deserved." His eyes are cold, his expression hard. Showing no emotion.

"You can't play God, Ian," Emily whispers not even trying to hide her disgust.

He lets go of her so fast, she stumbles. Tries to grab the kitchen counter to keep from falling, fails and drops to the floor. Her wrists scream in pain when her body hits the tiles. Her head is throbbing.

She watches Ian walk up to the fridge, rummaging around before he comes back with two ice packs. Carefully he places them on her wrists, while he bends to his knees in front of her. Something like remorse on his face. Even though Emily knows first hand that he isn't capable of feeling remorse.

It gets quiet. Dust particles dance in the sunlight. Birds sing in the trees.

"Why am I here, Ian," she asks him when she's able to speak again. "Why did you bring me here?"

He doesn't answer right away. Keeps holding her hands in his. So softly, she isn't sure if it's really him anymore.

When he finally looks up at her, his eyes are a raging hurricane.

"Because I still love you."

.

She's standing in the shower. Hot water spraying down on her naked body, while she tries to get her feelings under control. Tries to order her thoughts.

Ian's words still stuck in her head.

And she wishes she could tell herself that he lied. But she knows that he didn't. Knows that he meant every word he said.

She closes her eyes, steadies herself with her hand against the wall. Winces at the sharp pain her wrist sends through her body.

She has still no idea where she is, still no idea what happened on that landing strip. No idea how he got away. No idea if her team is still alive. No idea how Ian pulled the whole thing of in the first place.

And she wants to know all of these things, desperately wants to know and yet she's still afraid to ask. Not sure if she wants to hear it after all.

When the water starts to run cold, she leaves the shower. Makes her way back into her bedroom in nothing more than a towel and starts looking through the closet. Isn't surprised to find it filled with clothes her size. Expensive labels, exquisite taste. Just what she likes to wear in private.

_He knows her so well, doesn't he?_

When she turns around, fully dressed in black slacks and a black blouse, she finds Ian leaning against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

"How long have you been standing there."

"Long enough," he tells her, with a smirk playing on his face.

"That's not very polite, you know." She throws her soaked towel in his directions. Watches him catch it easily.

"There's nothing I haven't seen before."

Emily shakes her head. More to herself than to him. Not in the mood for games.

"Just tell me what happened on that landing strip."

She watches him put down the towel, before he steps closer towards her. The playful smirk finally vanished from his face.

"Chloe shot one of your team."

"Who." Emily's voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes wide with fear.

"The youngest."

She feels like she's about to pass out. Black dots dance in front of her eyes.

"I knew he would try to save you," Ian continues, his voice casual like he's talking about the weather. "That's the reason I knocked him out. But then he came running straight to the jet, not listening to anyone. Screaming your name."

"Is he dead?" Emily whispers. Stares at the wall. Unable to look at Ian any longer. Unable to think. The only thing she can hear her own heart hammering in her chest.

_Not Reid. Please God, not Reid. Please, please, just please._

This is her fault, all of this.

_What did she do to them?_

"Emily, you need to breathe. Emily!"

It's Ian's voice against her ear that makes her come back to her senses and just then she realizes he has her pulled up against his chest. His hands on her arms, his voice trying to soothe her.

Her breathing nothing more then raging gasps. Her lungs screaming at her in pain.

"Emily you need to breathe."

And she tries, she really tries, but she can't. And she remembers, that night. That voice calling her name. Desperately trying to save her life.

_Reid._

"He's alive, Emily. Do you understand? Spencer Reid is alive."

It's the last thing she hears, before everything turns dark.

.

When she opens her eyes, she's lying among the white cushions again. It takes her a moment to remember where she is and what happened and when she does she shots up on the mattress.

And sinks back immediately, her eyes already closed again, the dizziness taking over.

"Easy there."

It's Ian's voice and she feels his hand hover over hers.

"Just keep lying down for a little bit longer."

"Why didn't you tell me sooner," she asks him. Her voice hoarse. "Why did you do that?"

"I did, you weren't listening until I grabbed you."

Emily wonders if it's true. She tries to remember, but everything seems black. Her throat dry. Her lungs still hurting.

"Did you know that he loved you?"

Emily feels her whole body tense and she draws back her hand.

"Who?" she asks, even though she knows exactly whom he's talking about.

"The genius. I suspected it the first time I saw him. But it was written all over his face, when I saw him at your funeral."

"You were at my funeral?" She tries to sit up again, but before she even manages she's pushed back down into the cushions.

"I was."

"You knew I didn't die all along, did you?"

Emily opens her eyes to find Ian smiling down at her.

"Sure I did. We did that before, remember? I was looking closer this time and found just what I was looking for. But you never answered my question. Did you know that he'd been in love with you?"

She looks away. Stares at the ceiling right above her head. "I'm a profiler, Ian. Of course I knew."

And it's true. Of course she knew. Tried to ignore it for a long time. Knowing she wouldn't do him any good. Not with all the baggage she was carrying. Not as damaged as she was.

In the end it nearly got him killed anyway.

"They'll come for me, you know that, right?" she asks him. Still looking at the ceiling.

Ian just shrugs. Not concerned in the slightest. "Right now they're having a hard time explaining that you didn't die seven months ago. That they let the bureau pay to bury an empty casket. I'm not sure if they'll manage to get out of this mess without losing their jobs."

Emily doesn't even try to wonder how it's possible that he knows all this. What's more important to her is that she knows he's right, that this is a disaster, And that this could break their necks. They could all lose their jobs, their careers. Just because of her.

"They only did it to save my life," Emily whispers. "And to protect your son."

"Yeah," Ian nods and she feels his hand briefly touch her cheek. "Look how that went."

"I'm going to let you sleep," he tells her, getting up from the bed and already on his way out. "We'll talk later."

"Ian," Emily turns her head to look at him. Watches him stop, his hand on the doorknob. "I want to see Declan. Please let me see him."

He looks at her for a long time and she starts to wonder what he's looking for when he finally nods. Tells her that she'll find him in his room down the hall and Emily takes a breathe she didn't knew she was holding.

She waits until she hears Ian's footsteps disappear downstairs before she gets back to her own feet and out of the bed. She leaves the bedroom and walks down the hallway, one hand against the wall to steady herself.

When she opens the door she finds dark blue walls, an open closet filled with boy clothes. Sideboards full of books and model cars. Model planes dancing on slings from the ceiling. A big bed in the middle of the room.

A tv on the opposite side of the wall, a stereo sound system on the other. Plush animals and crayons and paper. A telescope in front of one of the large windows, a soccer ball lying on the floor. A basketball beside the paper basket as well as a big desk with a computer.

The blond boy sits there, lost in his thoughts. Looking out the window into the bright morning sun, shining through the trees.

Emily's voice is barely above a whisper when she finally manages to call his name.

"Declan."

The boy spins around so fast he knocks down a book and a box full of crayons from his desk. Blue eyes looking up at her. Filled with pain and sorrow. And then he's running, long blonde hair flying.

A second later his arms are around her, his face pressed against her and he's sobbing. Tears soaking the soft fabric of her blouse. His heartbreaking sobs filling the silence in the room, making her shatter. And before she knows what's happening, tears fall down her own cheeks. Slowly dripping onto his hair.

Her arms find a way around his small form like they did a million times, years ago in another lifetime. And she pulls him close against her own heaving chest, holds him tight. Whispers into his ear, promises of a life she's confident of giving him.

And then and there, Emily knows she'll never be able to leave again.

.

She's standing on the balcony, her arms crossed in front of her chest, while she looks out into the darkness. Listening to the waves crashing against the shore.

It's late, almost midnight. Yet it's still warm. Only a slight breeze touching her bare arms.

When she hears his footsteps she closes her eyes. Doesn't flinch when she feels his arms come close around her. Ian's chin coming to a rest on her hair while he pulls her back against his chest.

This should feel wrong, Emily knows. Because after all it is. But no matter how much she wants it to, no matter what her head keeps telling her. It doesn't feel wrong.

She fits right into his arms, like only her body was made to fit. To complete his.

And she thinks about Declan, his hand in hers. His blue eyes looking up at her. Full of hope, full of trust. Lost and broken. And she remembers his laugh, the little boy running around in the living room years ago.

And she wants that laugh back, wants to see him happy again. Wants to set this all right. Even if it means to give up a part of herself.

"What makes you sure I won't just leave you," she whispers. Her eyes fixed on the endless horizon. The moonlight reflected on the water.

Ian chuckles. Buries his face in her hair, bends down to touch the skin behind her ear with his lips.

"Go ahead, love. If that's what you want. Then leave."

She feels his breath against her neck, his fingers trailing down her sides and she's lost. Falling and falling, with nothing to hold on to. And even though the rational part tells her to run, her heart tells her something completely different.

"That's what I thought," Ian whispers. His lips on her skin setting her on fire, making her crash and burn right there in his arms.

She feels his hands on her waist, his arms pulling her even closer against his chest. And even though she thinks about freeing herself out of his grip, her body already betrays her. Her eyes closed. Her skin screaming for him to touch her.

She doesn't fight him when he takes her hand and spins her around to face him. He watches her for a long time, his fingers still trailing down the curves of her body. An invisible force pulling her closer and closer.

And Emily knows there is no point in lying to herself. No point in trying to hide what he knows anyway. That no matter what her best intentions are, she's falling for him.

And when he finally bends down to kiss her, she's his all over again.

.

They live in Ireland, Italy and France. Spend some time in Germany, Greece and Norway.

Days, weeks and months fly by. Torn between heaven and hell. Most days she doesn't even know which life she considers heaven and which hell anymore.

Sometimes she thinks about calling the ones she left behind in DC. Thinks about letting them at least know that she's fine, that there's no need to worry about her. No need to keep searching the world for her.

But she knows she can't call them. Knows it would be too much of a risk. And she can't let them know the truth anyway.

She still pretends she doesn't know herself.

.

It's a cold day in the middle of January.

They're in Norway and Emily is standing in their living room, watching Declan and his new dog running around in the snow. Even from behind the window it's obvious how happy the boy is. The dog a present she suggested Ian should get him for Christmas.

And even though it's a heartwarming sight, Emily can't help but feel sad. Can't stop thinking about JJ. Can't stop wondering what she and Will got Henry for Christmas.

She thinks about Garcia and Morgan, wonders if he still calls her babygirl. She thinks about Hotch and Jack, wonders how they spend Christmas. She thinks about Rossi, his latest book still lying on her nightstand.

The book he dedicated to her. The words making her eyes fill with tears, just thinking about. The message he left there for her and all the world to see, telling her to come back home again.

And she thinks about Reid. Wonders how he's doing. Wishes she could hear his voice just one more time. Wishes she could at least tell him goodbye.

But it's impossible.

"Do you really want to go back?"

Ian's voice makes her jump in surprise. She spins around and finds him standing in the doorframe of the living room, watching her with a growing sadness in his eyes.

"If you really want to go back, I won't stop you," he tells her. "If that's what you really want, I'll let you go."

Emily stares. Is that a trap? It must be. But he looks at her like he means it. And if she didn't know better she would say he looks sad. Afraid.

"I won't hold you back. But I want you to be sure about it, I want you to be sure that this life you lived back in Washington is what you want. Pretending to be someone you aren't. Afraid of your own shadow, afraid of being what you really are. Do you still want to be like that?"

Emily forces herself to meet his gaze, before she finds the strength to answer.

"I was only afraid of you, Ian."

He laughs. A real laugh, a laugh that sends shivers down her spine.

"Lauren Reynolds wasn't," he tells her. His voice like silk.

"Lauren Reynolds never existed," she all but whispers. Knowing it's a lie.

And of course he knows it too.

"That's not true, Emily." He gives her a smile, steps forward and Emily can't help but take one back.

"What makes you think I would prefer staying with you? You're still a mudererer, Ian. A terrorist. You don't care who lives or dies, as long as you get what you want."

Ian smirks and she hates the way he's looking at her. Self-assured and so very proud of himself.

"True," he tells her. "And yet, you still love me."

"I don't want to live in fear," Emily whispers. "Always scared that someday, someone is going to come through that door and arrest us both. If I stay with you I'm nothing more than your accomplice. I may not face the same sentence you do, but I'm never going to see the outside of a prison cell again."

He shakes his head and she knows he's losing his patience.

"No one is going to arrest us, that's ridiculous. And even if so, all you have to do is tell them you were scared. That I made you stay. That I threatened to kill Declan. To kill you. You did a good job lying the last time. No one knew that they could have arrested me months before. That you did everything you could to stall them."

She's too scared to answer him. Too scared to say a single word, afraid it will give even more away.

"Declan is almost a teenager, no one would believe me," she says when she dares to speak again. Looks back out into the garden. Wonders if this is true.

"Then we get another kid, Emily. Don't you think it would be nice to have another one running around in the house? Or even two?"

The feeling of being sick hits her so hard and so unexpectedly she has to grab the armrest of the couch beside her. Afraid she might pass out. And Ian must have sensed it too, because he's already at her side. Steadying her with his body.

"I'm not going to force you," he tells her. His voice so full of love it scares her. "It's only an offer."

"I don't want my kids to become warriors, Ian," she tries to explain, while she leans against his chest. Her body giving into him instantly. "I can't bring one into this world to take over your legacy. And I can't raise Declan to live a life like yours either."

She feels tears threatening to spill and she hates herself for losing it.

"Every time I look at him I can't stop seeing him dead. Shot in the head like on those pictures and that's what the future holds for him, Ian. The future you want for him. More dead bodies. More people to kill for a greater cause. More crimes to commit. But, I don't want that for him."

She looks away when she feels the first tears falling, tries to fight against the pain crushing her heart.

"Emily, " Ian starts, while he touches her face gently. Makes her look up at him. "I never had a choice, I was born to take over my father's legacy. To build an even bigger one and I did. And I wanted my son to take over, because that's how I was raised. But then I met you."

She feels his fingers trace the curve of her lip. His eyes never leave her face.

"And I can assure you that I'm not going to force Declan into something he doesn't want to do. Not anymore."

"Why?" Emily whispers and finds herself unable to tear her gaze away.

"Because I can't bare the thought of losing him or you ever again."

And for the first time, Emily believes him.

.

When she finally calls him, they're in Rome and it's Reid's birthday.

She's sitting in a cafe, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses. The burner phone pressed against her ear. Her fingers trembling against her will.

He answers after the third ring and the way he says his name, makes tears spring to her eyes. And suddenly she seems to have lost her voice.

"Hello?" He asks into the silence. "Hello? Is somebody there?" It's quiet for a moment and when he speaks again his voice is full of hope.

"Emily is that you?"

And she bites her lip to hold back a sob.

"Emily? Emily if that's you, please just talk to me. Please."

She hears something in the background, voices fading in and out and she wonders where he is. Wonders if he's already trying to reach Garcia to track down the phone, even though she's sure he already knows he won't get far with that.

"Emily, please just say something. Just let me hear your voice."

"Happy Birthday, Spence," she finally allows herself to whisper. Tears blurring her vision and she's glad she's wearing sunglasses to hide her eyes from the other customers around her.

She hears him take a deep breath, hears him chuckle and then a sob. His voice hoarse and broken when he finds the strength to speak again.

"We thought, we thought.." he starts. Stops. "We miss you, Emily."

And just like that she knows he's not alone. Knows they must be there, too. Maybe all of them gathered around the conference table back at the BAU.

"You have to stop looking for me, Spencer," she tells him. Her voice firm, even though she's shaking. "You guys have to go on with your own lives, you have to stop waiting for me to come home."

There's some whispering in the background and Emily thinks she hears Garcia, saying that she can't trace the call.

"No, Emily," Reid tells her. "Never. We're never going to do that. We're never going to give up on you. We knew you weren't dead, we knew he..."

"Spencer, I beg you, please. Things aren't just black and white. Sometimes there's more. Much more. And sometimes there's no going back. I know you understand that more than anyone else."

"What are you talking about? Please just come home, Emily! Tell us what you need and we'll come and get you. Just tell us where you..."

"Spencer. I called to tell you goodbye."

It's quiet. So quiet it starts to hurt. She has to tell herself to keep breathing. Has to tell herself to stay strong, to not hang up on him just now.

"I want you to start living again," she tells him. _Tells them._ "You and the others. I want you to be happy again. All of you."

"No, no. Emily."

"Emily Prentiss died years ago, Spencer. She never made it off the table. You were there. You buried her."

"Please come back home, Emily." He's sobbing now and there are other voices. Someone else crying in the distance. And she's glad they leave the final goodbye to him. Is glad they understood why she called him.

"I can't, Spencer. I can't."

She keeps listening to his tears, his breathing. Her eyes closed, the phone still pressed against her ear and she wishes she could take the pain away from him. Wishes she could turn back time and do everything different.

Wonders how things would be if she could.

"So what's your new name then," he asks her all of a sudden and he sounds so casual, she can't help but laugh.

"Good try Spencer, but I'm not going to tell you."

"It was worth a shot," he replies dryly and even though she can't see him, she knows he's smiling.

"Goodbye, Spencer."

"Goodbye, Emily."

She sits at her table for a few more minutes to compose herself. Pays for her untouched coffee before she gets up to her feet. Throws the phone in the nearest trashcan, aware that it's untraceable anyway. Knows they're still going to try.

And she can't blame them. She would do the same.

She leaves the public place and walks over to the other side of the road where Ian and Declan are waiting for her. Declan eating ice-cream, the three of them looking like a normal family.

Ian gives her a smile while he takes her hand. Not asking any questions.

Together they walk down the boardwalk. Watching the sunset on their way back the airport. Her own hand resting on her belly. The baby inside her softly pushing against it.

She's not Emily anymore, the man beside her not Ian. And the boy listening to the songs on his Ipod isn't called Declan any longer.

She knows they're never going to find her, not as long as she doesn't want them to. After all she's a trained spy. And hiding the only way to keep them safe.

.

The dark haired woman is standing in the open doorframe of her Tuscan villa, watching her kids run over the lawn in the garden.

Dark hair flying in the wind, blue eyes beaming with life. The two little girls laughing and squealing with joy, while her brother is chasing after them. Pretending to be unable to catch them.

Their big brother a young man now, with long blonde hair and the same blue eyes as his little sisters. The eyes they all have from their father. Those eyes that seem to capture the sky.

And the woman can't help but think that something this beautiful can't be wrong.

Lost in her thoughts she looks down at her hand. The gimmel ring glistening in the sun, the brightest shade of gold. And she thinks that there really is a thin line between love and hate. A thin line between right and wrong.

That it's enough to live in the present and neither worry about the past nor the future. That sometimes the only way to set something right is to break the rules. No matter what the consequences bring.

When she hears footsteps from behind, she turns around. Watches her husband walk out from the living room.

She didn't made him a saint and she knows she never will, knows it wouldn't be the man she fell in love with if she did. But she taught him remorse and most days, that's enough.

He gives her a gentle kiss, before he joins their children. Catches up with his daughters and lifts them up into the air, before he starts dashing through the bushes. His son coming after them, trying to catch them all.

The woman still watches them. Thinking about the family she had to leave and about the family _he_ gave her. Watches the sun illuminating her children's happy faces as their laughter fills the air.

And having broken all the rules has never seemed more right.

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**Disclamer: I own nothing, Everything belongs to their rightful owners.**

**************AN: ****Thank you to everyone who takes the time to read and/or review my stories, that really means the world to me!********And of course a big thank you goes to my wonderful beta reader clairebare!**


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